


Missing him

by theshrubbery



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1, Angst, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reunions, shiro missing adam, some fluff thrown in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 01:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15377343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshrubbery/pseuds/theshrubbery
Summary: So Shiro put him to the back of his mind, knowing he couldn't afford to be distracted like that when the fate of the universe now rested in his mismatched hands. He’d been doing pretty well, too, at keeping away from the thoughts of Adam.Or; 5 times Shiro misses Adam in space, and 1 time he doesn't need to





	Missing him

**Author's Note:**

> Angsty angsty angst, all aboard the angst train

1)  
It was that first year in those Galran cells when he missed him the most. 

Shiro was surrounded by the putrid scent of blood and decaying flesh and the sight of so many different species of alien in varying states of injury that he was surprised humans hadn’t discovered life sooner. Shiro was in constant pain in those days, a terrible mix of his chronic sickness and of injury, he was alone and scared, hungry and panicked, Sam and Matt had long been taken to God-knows-where and Shiro, the upcoming Champion, was left alone.

Once the Galra had caught onto Shiro’s strength, his knack for taking opponents down in the ring, he’d been transported to a grotty cell of his own—it was by no means nicer than any of the other cramped cells he’d been in but the guards who’d taken him there had named it luxury. 

The floor was cold and damp, from who-knows-what, the walls seemed almost slimy, and the door was heavy-set alien metal Shiro knew he had no chance of escaping through. He couldn’t hear much from outside, other than the occasional whir of machinery a few doors down, the agonised screaming of a prisoner. Shiro didn’t know what was being done to them but it was terrifying nonetheless.

He was cold and lonely and he missed Adam in a way that made his heart physically ache.

Curled loosely on the floor, Shiro fisted the thin material of his battered prison top in his fist, his hand was shaking fiercely. He was in so much pain, physically and emotionally and there wasn’t anything he wanted more than to be with Adam. They’d parted on bad terms, yes, but there was no way Adam would let everything go so quickly… was there?

He’d made a mistake and he knew it. Shiro should never have come on the Kerberos mission. Adam had always been there for him, he’d been there in the days Shiro could barely move from sickness, he’d been there when Shiro had broken record after record at the Garrison. Shiro had thought Adam would understand why he had to go on the mission, Shiro was sick and he knew he’d never be getting this opportunity again—instead Adam had left him. It was all a blur after that and Shiro had been more determined than ever to go on the mission, it’d been all he focused on, somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he should go after Adam, knew he shouldn’t part on the terms they had, but even thinking his name twisted Shiro’s gut in guilt and sadness and had his throat closing up. He thought it would be better if he stayed distracted. He thought Adam would come around to the idea.

Adam didn’t come and see him off, though, and that hurt Shiro more than he could ever put into words. It was too late for regrets by then, buckled into the ship and counting down, so he slapped on a smile and focussed on excitement, thinking he’d be back in a year or so. He’d return and he and Adam could sort through everything, it would be fine, Shiro would send him messages on his journey, he wouldn’t forget about Adam.

How could he ever forget about the man he was engaged to?

Adam hadn’t replied to any of the messages though, nothing more than a “come back safely”. Shiro couldn’t even do that, apparently.

He curled tighter around himself, pushing his other hand into his face as though he could physically push the tears in his eyes back inside. Instead, they fell and Shiro coughed thickly as a sob forced its way up his parched throat. 

His shoulder was numb from lying on the floor and his stomach was cramping from hunger and anxiety, but Shiro couldn’t bring himself to think of anything else but him.

Shiro rolled from his side and onto his knees, his forehead pressed into the ground, and bunched his hands up on the floor either side of his head. He pounded once, ignoring the pain in his hand, then again. Then again and again and again as he sobbed and cried, out regretting everything and hating himself more than he thought he ever could.

Some boyfriend he was. Shiro couldn’t believe his own selfishness, couldn’t believe what he was putting Adam through. Shiro couldn’t bear to imagine the agony of being in Adam’s position, not knowing what had happened, being told he’d died as the Garrison surely had announced.

“Adam,” Shiro croaked out, sitting back and looking up at the dank ceiling, his arms limp and his body empty. “Adam, I’m sorry,” but Shiro knew he could never apologise enough.

It only got worse from there. Fighting in the arena was tough. It was easily one of the hardest and most strenuous things he’d ever done, and it left him plagued with injury and nightmares and an endless sense of guilt. What would Adam think of him if he could see what he’d done?

Once his victories starting racking up, it wasn’t long until Shiro found for himself the reason for the screaming down the hall.

Lying on that table, strapped down and restrained, Shiro came to wish he’d been slaughtered in the arena. Anything would be better than the complete and utter agony of having his arm amputated whilst wide awake.

The Galran Druids called it experimenting, making him stronger, rewarding him for his efforts, but Shiro called it mutilation and agony. He was genuinely surprised he hadn’t died from the shock of it; he suspected the Druids had given him something to stop him dying, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

Once he was back in his cell with his new arm, Shiro had lost his grip on reality, just a little. He was feverish and delirious and in more pain than he’d ever been in his entire life. There was nothing even remotely sharp in his room he could use, so Shiro had no choice but to dig his own nails down into the tender flesh of his arm where the prosthetic began and try and pry it off himself.

Howling, Shiro tore at the skin, fighting to pull it off but there was nothing he could do to get it to move. Shiro vomited, his vision blacking out, his hearing swimming away from him as his arm became a white-hot ball of what felt like fire.

Shiro fell to the floor, collapsing onto his back, his arm bleeding from his attempt at freeing himself, his mind drifting away, into unconsciousness, back to Adam.

2)

Shiro thought about Adam a lot. But since his escape from the Galra, Shiro busied himself the best he could, trying to avoid any chance his mind might have to wander back to those dark depths Adam resided in. He’d give almost anything to see Adam again, anything to be held by him, reassured, loved.

So Shiro put him to the back of his mind, knowing he couldn’t afford to be distracted like that when the fate of the universe now rested in his mismatched hands. He’d been doing pretty well, too, at keeping away from the thoughts of Adam, until they’d begun proper Paladin bonding.

They were seated in a circle on the floor each with their own alien headset, made to help them portray their thoughts. Clearing his mind was harder than Shiro had thought it would be, he never really did have a clear mind, and he was almost terrified of the picture the headset was going to project until it did—it was the Garrison. The others could likely connect this back to Kerberos, back to safety, there were plenty of excuses.

But Shiro knew the connection and that connection was Adam. Of course it was. Everything in his life that mattered came back to Adam.

Shiro felt a jolt in his gut at the image of the Garrison, felt emotions long-buried surge up into his chest and throat and his body began to tremble. Quickly refocussing, Shiro then formed the black lion in his head, changing the image, barely keeping control. He was terrified he was going to lose it, that Adam’s face would morph into picture in place of his lion and he’d be forced to see him. Shiro didn’t know if he’d be able to keep control if he saw Adam, photographical or otherwise.

Luckily, or unluckily, Shiro didn’t have to fight the mental battle for much longer, Pidge had thrown her headset off and stalked away, unable to take her mind off her father and brother. Sam and Matt. Shiro missed them, he was terrified for them if they were still in that place; he felt sick.

Shortly after Pidge left, Shiro left too. He can’t remember what excuse he used he just knew that he needed to get away. He needed to leave and gather himself before he did anything else; he needed to get himself in check so he could return to the group a composed leader once more. Not a broken man distraught and wrecked by his past.

“Shiro?” Shiro jolted slightly when he heard Keith’s voice. Shiro didn’t know where he was, he hadn’t been looking where he was going, he was far too out-of-it for that, and he was surprised that Keith had managed to find him.

Shiro took in a breath, tried to force his trembling hands into submission, smiled, raised his head, “yeah, Keith?”

Keith scowled, looking down at Shiro from where he was standing above him.

“Shiro, don’t.” Keith said. His voice was tired and snappy, he looked annoyed but Shiro knew he wasn’t, Keith just wasn’t the best with emotions.

“I’m fine, Keith, don’t worry,” Shiro tried his best to sound placated, put-together, not-on-the-verge-of-a-mental-breakdown. Keith, though, saw right through his bullshit.

Keith threw himself down next to Shiro, not breaking eye-contact once, and continued to stare for a few seconds before speaking. “Don’t lie to me,” Keith told him quietly, “you were always there for me, Shiro, please just—just let me return the favour,”

“I don’t—” Shiro cut himself off, he didn’t even know himself what he was going to say. The smile had dropped from his face, his head had dropped into one hand.

“You miss him,” Keith stated simply and Shiro wondered if it was really that obvious. “Adam, I mean.” He elaborated, not really needing to.

“Yeah,” Shiro said with a tight voice. He cleared his throat. “I do,”

Keith didn’t seem to know what to say after that and Shiro tensed as he felt Keith’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, it’s okay to miss him, Shiro, you don’t have to pretend you don’t,” Keith tugged on his shoulder a little, and Shiro’s last-ditch attempt at staying composed went with it. Shiro turned and dropped his head down onto Keith’s shoulder, trusting him to see him so uncomposed but still not wanting to display his face, knowing it was ugly, trying not to cry as he was.

Keith slowly wrapped an arm around Shiro’s back, shortly followed by the other. Shiro knew things like this were a big deal for him, he knew that Keith struggled with this kind of thing, it warmed his heart to know Keith felt comfortable enough to do this for him. He heard a stutter in Keith’s breath as he pulled him closer, “is this okay?” he asked. Shiro nodded, not trusting his voice.

Shiro’s human arm wrapped around Keith, he kept his prosthetic close to his chest.

Shiro was grateful for Keith, he was glad he’d met him, glad he’d had faith in him, glad he’d become so much like a brother to him. But not even Keith could take away the pain Shiro felt in those moments.

Hugging Keith was nothing like hugging Adam. It was comforting, yes, but hugging Adam was unlike anything else he’d ever felt.

Hugging Adam felt like everything in the world was right, he felt safe and happy, he felt protected and protective, it was something else, it really was. Shiro wished he could be hugging Adam. He wished they could be doing something completely domestic, lying on the sofa together watching a movie. Adam on his back with Shiro draped over him, Adam’s hands in his hair, their ankles hooked over one another, a blanket encompassing them both. After a while they’d switch, Shiro would slide back off him and take Adam’s place and Adam would take Shiro’s place and the blanket would come back down over them.

What Shiro wouldn’t give to have that again.

“Are you okay now?” Keith asked, mumbling into Shiro’s shoulder, “are you feeling better?”

Shiro sighed quietly, pulled his head up, smiled.

“I’m okay now.”

He wasn’t.

3)

Jolting awake, Shiro sat panting and tired, exhausted as though he’d actually just gone through a full year of Galran imprisonment again in the space of what couldn’t have been more than a few hours. Shiro never slept more than a few hours at a time. He could deal with it though, he had to.

What he couldn’t deal with, was instinctively reaching over to the other side of the bed for comfort. It didn’t matter how much disappointment he went through, his subconscious just couldn’t seem to get enough of reaching for someone he hadn’t seen in easily a year and a half at the least.

Shiro pulled his arm back to his body, looking over at the empty space beside him with an indescribable emptiness. He wiped an arm across his face, smearing the sweat and tears together, trying not to let the loneliness in. Shiro supposed reaching for Adam was muscle-memory, something he just always did when he needed him, something Adam always did in return too.

Shiro remembered the nights he’d wake up sick, they felt like an eternity ago now, they felt like the memories of another man, but Shiro knew they’d happened. He could easily recall it all, recall sitting in their bed in their shared Garrison room, breathing heavily through pain and illness, throwing out an arm to cling to Adam like a lifeline until he woke up and helped him through it.

“Takashi?” he’d asked groggily, before becoming more alert, “Takashi? It’s okay, what’s wrong?” he’d ask. He’d always reassure him before asking what was wrong. It was endearing and comforting and Shiro loved him for it. Adam would ask him what he needed, sometimes that would be medicine, sometimes that would be nothing more than to be held by him.

He could recall the times when it was the other way around, too, times when Adam would toss and turn before bolting upright with a strangled cry, shaking Shiro until he woke up. Shiro could remember the first time Adam did that, how panicked he’d felt as Adam cried out his name desperately.

“Wake up wake up wake up,” Adam had repeated in a mantra, not pausing for breath between words until he absolutely had to. Shiro had jolted into wakefulness and immediately asked what was wrong.

“Adam? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“You’re alive,” Adam had cried, “you’re alive,” he’d repeated, and Shiro’s heart had sunk as he’d realised that Adam had dreamt of his death. They both knew it was coming, even if Shiro lived out a long life, there was no way he’d ever make it as long as Adam would. Shiro knew he only had a few more years left of his prime before he really started to deteriorate.

Shiro had hated himself then, for putting Adam through what he was, but that was nothing compared to what Adam must currently be going through.

Shiro supposed he hated himself now then, too.

4)

He was dead. He’d probably been dead for a while. He didn’t really know the specifics. This realm was pretty boring, but he was grateful for being alive. Shiro had tried to get himself out, he’d begged the black lion for help with no response other than the confirmation he was dead, and he’d tried to speak to Lance the last time the Paladin’s had crossed through. It didn’t work though, and Shiro was left alone once more.

He didn’t like being dead. It was exactly like being alive but in the astral plane. It gave him far too much time to think, since there really wasn’t much more he could do.

Of course, he found his mind occupied by Adam a lot of the time. It really wasn’t any surprise to Shiro at all that after all this time he still couldn’t get him out of his head. He thought of the good, of the bad, and of everything in between. Shiro thought of everything he’d put Adam through, wishing he could go back and change things, wishing he could at least see him again and apologise. When Adam died, though, if he wasn’t dead already, Shiro knew he wouldn’t come here, to the astral plane, he’d go wherever it was normal dead people went. If they went anywhere at all. Shiro really didn’t want to think of Adam being dead.

Instead, he found himself thinking back to the first times he met Adam. They’d been years younger then, they met at the Garrison of course, and Shiro didn’t know about Adam but he’d felt like something had clicked into place just at the sight of him.

From the first look, Shiro had known he was the one. There wasn’t any of that heart-pounding, sweaty-palm, knee-weakening business that he’d heard about in movies, no, Shiro was completely calm. Until he opened his mouth anyways to introduce himself and became a stuttering mess, making a complete and utter fool of himself. A least Adam had thought it was endearing.

However they hadn’t gotten into a relationship straight from there. They’d remained friends for a long time afterward, building up their bond, strengthening it, getting to know one another properly, until Shiro got it together and asked him out.

Shiro could remember their first kiss, too. They were roommates before they were together, and of course remained roommates afterwards, and they were sat together on Adam’s bed, back before they’d swapped out for a room with a just the one. Shiro had been working at Adam’s desk, going over some data from his latest flight simulation report, when he’d had enough, the thought of Adam sitting behind him, reading, was too much to keep away from any longer. Shiro had looked over his shoulder at Adam, swallowing as he found his eyes drawn to Adam’s lips.

The bed had dipped as Shiro sat down next to Adam. Adam had looked over the rim of his book, his cheeks lifting in a smile that was hidden behind the pages. Shiro had placed a gentle hand on Adam’s arm and slowly lowered it, revealing his face in full, and Shiro couldn’t believe Adam was his. Couldn’t believe a man so handsome and loving and perfect was his boyfriend.

“Takashi?” Adam had asked lightly through his smile, “what’re you looking at me like that for?” he’d asked, his face flushing. Shiro could feel the heat rising in his own cheeks. He’d looked into Adam’s eyes, trailing down his nose, to his lips, then back up again.

Shiro slid the hand still on Adam’s arm up, lightly across his shoulder, up his neck, and he’d pushed the hair away from his face gently, his breath catching in his throat and his heart beginning to pound as he realised he was leaning closer, closer.

“Can…” Shiro’d begun, trailing off, leaning closer, his hand had pushed through Adam’s hair and cupped around his neck, his thumb brushed the edge of his jaw line.

Adam closed the distance, pressing his own lips to Shiro’s, dropping his book and shifting to tuck his legs beneath him, pushing himself closer. It was quick, as far as kisses went, and when they’d pulled away they were both slightly struck.

“I liked that,” Adam had said dumbly, and the both of them had laughed. Shiro had pulled their foreheads together, resting there for a moment, basking in the love and adoration he felt, before connecting their lips once more.

Presently, Shiro’s fingers traced his own lips, he was smiling.

5)

Adam had always told him he’d love him no matter what but as Shiro stood in the mirror, staring at himself almost naked, he couldn’t help but wonder how far that affirmation would go. Shiro’s hair was completely white now, it looked entirely different to how it used to and he felt like it aged him dramatically. Although the large scar across his cheeks and nose was something Shiro had long gotten used to, he had to remember that that wasn’t always there, that was another new blemish.

There was the glaring lack of an arm too, the needless amputation he’d gone through for the sake of Galran science and experimentation, he didn’t even have a prosthetic now to try and hide the fact it was gone, which was both liberating and constricting, making it strikingly obvious there was no longer an arm there.

Other than that, where his clothes usually covered, there was an endless abundance of scars. Puckered skin drawn up in valleys and ridges by blades and seared skin where heated lasers had ripped through. The majority of his scars had been gained in the arena, most injuries he’d had since escaping were easily healed by the pods.

Shiro couldn’t help but wonder what Adam would think of him now. Even if he could handle the grotesque mess of a man he’d become, would he be able to handle his mental state? Would he want to? Shiro felt it wouldn’t be fair of him to expect Adam to still love him as he was, he didn’t know if Adam still loved him anyways, they hadn’t seen each other in at least two years, maybe more, Shiro didn’t know. He told himself he wouldn’t be disappointed if Adam didn’t want him anymore, if he’d moved on far enough to never look back, he told himself it was okay, it didn’t hurt, it was alright.

But it wasn’t, and Shiro knew that.

+1

Shiro felt like all the air was gone from the room. He felt like the air was gone from the room, from his lungs, from everywhere, like he couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t, whether he wanted to or not, tear his eyes away from Adam.

Adam.

He was there.

He was right fucking there.

After all this time. He was there and Shiro didn’t know what to do with himself. They’d landed on Earth, they’d been too late to warn them of a Galran attack, far too late, and Shiro had been all too focussed on the attack and on meeting with the leaders at the Garrison to formulate a plan to realise that Adam would more than likely be there.

Off to the side, Pidge was reuniting once more with her family, Lance and Hunk were talking to some of the officers, Keith was with his mother, Allura, and Coran. He kept glancing over to Shiro, he could see it out of the corner of his eye.

Shiro turned fully back to Adam. He was still there. He was real.

“Takashi?” Adam asked, his voice cracking audibly. Adam looked much older, with a scruff on his chin and bags under his eyes that spoke of stress and sleepless nights. Adam’s eyes fell from Shiro’s hair, down to his arm (or lack of), back up to his scar, back down to his arm. Adam’s eyes were all but bugging out of his skull and Shiro didn’t have the slightest clue what to do. He didn’t know whether to run to him or away, didn’t know where he stood, didn’t know what to do.

“Adam,” he breathed, but Adam was fixated on the lack of Shiro’s arm again.

“Takashi,” he repeated, his voice breathless, “what happened to you?” Adam stepped forwards, hesitantly, and Shiro couldn’t hold back any longer. He took a stumbling step forwards, and then another, and with Adam also making his way forwards in striding steps it wasn’t long until they reached one another and before Shiro knew what was happening, Adam’s arms were around him and everything inside him melted.

Shiro’s arm wrapped around Adam in return and he buckled at the knees at the solid warmth of Adam’s body against his, beneath his hand. Shiro pushed his head into Adam’s shoulder, into the warmth of his neck, and everything else in the world stood still. He was crying, but he could barely feel it, he could feel Adam’s body juddering too as his shoulders hitched in sobs, it was overwhelming, it was an intensity of emotion Shiro hadn’t felt in a long time.

I’m so sorry,” Shiro sobbed out quietly, the hand on Adam’s back fisting the material of his Garrison jacket, pulling him as close as he could. “Adam, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,”

“You should never have gone,” Adam’s words stumbled out and Shiro’s heart sank into his stomach, “but you did, and you’re back now, and I’m so glad,”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro repeated again, unable to fathom any other words that could possibly be applied to this situation. He bit down on his lip, scrunched his eyes, tried to compose himself, failed miserably. He was vaguely aware he was making a fool of himself in front of the other Paladins but really, what did it matter anymore?

Adam was here.

Right here.

Beneath his hand, holding him close.

He could see him, and touch him, and smell him, and hear him, and Galra be damned, there was no way he was ever letting go again.


End file.
